Almost Lover
by B of Ericaland
Summary: songfic one shot


DISCLAIMER:: do not own. just borrowing for purpose of creative expression. no profit obtained.

A/N:: normally i don't do songfics, because if i did, i'd have way too many to do. just too many good songs that feed the muse. but this was a very special request from an evil regal buddy of mine and fellow swanqueen shipper, kari. so, this one's for you kari, i hope it doesn't disappoint.

A/N2:: okay, so because ff has been bombing my email with warnings about the lyrics, i just removed them. not a new story or an update, just the same story with the song lyrics removed so the site will leave me alone.

Song:: Almost Lover by A Fine Frenzy

SWAN QUEEN SWAN QUEEN SWAN QUEEN

I knew from the moment she entered my life that she would be a force to be reckoned with. Coming up the walk that night, her hand to the small of my son's back, looking slightly out of place but altogether right at home. That was how she'd always been in my life, belonging and not belonging all at the same time.

I was hesitant at first. Could I handle this again? Could I handle falling? Love had eluded me for so long that I wasn't even sure I was capable of feeling anything that deeply again, save the hate that had permeated my soul for so many years it had begun to feel a part of everything I was.

And yet, with Emma Swan, falling had been the easy part. Feelings, I found, came back like old friends. First there was my go-to emotions, loathing and anger. But that easily broke away until I was loving to hate her, and that gave way to hating that I love her. And then I was left with just love. I love Emma Swan. That's what makes this so hard.

The first time she touched me, truly touched me was the night Graham died. Some part of me had known she would be with him, that she would be in his arms. Maybe that's what made me do it. Even then I had wanted her all to myself, though I couldn't quite admit it out loud or even in the confines of the pieces that remained of my heart. Not yet. To admit that I cared for her would have been weakness and weakness could not be tolerated.

When I had left my vault and made my way to the hospital, I wasn't surprised she was there. But I was surprised when she fell against me, sobbing into my shoulder. I was even more surprised at my own actions as I wrapped my arms around her. Even when we found ourselves back at my house, at my invitation, we sat on the couch in the parlour and I held her. It was morning before I let her go.

I let her see my son more often. It was the first thing I gave to her without asking anything in return. It made her happy, and for once that was enough for me. The two most precious people in my life and I had done something that made them both look at me as if I weren't so evil after all. It was a brief respite from the glares packed to the brim with accusation, but I'd learned to take what I could get, especially when it came to my son our son.

As I stood on the stoop and watched them walk hand in hand down the walk, heading off towards school, I knew then that I wanted that in my life. I wanted our son to be that content always, and I wanted Emma Swan to never lose that newfound sparkle in her eyes, a sparkle that, this time, I had helped put there.

I still don't remember who initiated the first kiss. It's something we have always argued over, who broke first. I remember tucking Henry in after we'd spent the evening as a family, at our son's insistence of course. He'd looked between Emma and I as if it was all he'd ever wished for, both of us in the same room, each just being content with the other's presence, no fighting. We'd laid down our verbal swords for an evening of peace. Maybe that was what he'd wished for.

I'd had every intention of seeing her out and having our night come to an end. After all, I could find no valid excuse for her to stay now that our son was down for the night. But she had grabbed my hand, and as I stared down at the foreign contact she'd pulled me into the parlour and sat me down, going to pour me a drink as if this were her place and not mine. It should have made me mad, her blatant disregard for boundaries, her refusal to ask permission, but it didn't. Instead, it had made me feel almost relieved. It takes a lot of strength to man the walls one puts up around themselves for one day, let alone the three plus decades I'd been doing it. I let my guard down in front of her and that's when it happened.

I remember lips, questing across skin. I remember her surrounding me, her mouth laying claim to my face, my neck, my shoulders. All the while, mine invaded her much the same. I felt then, and every time since, safety in the haven of her mouth, her arms. They call her saviour and at that moment I understood why.

We didn't become lovers right away. The night of kissing needed to be digested and accepted before we could progress any further down the path we'd found ourselves on. How had that happened? I don't recall ever having anyone walking the same path with me since him. I'd become so accustomed to shuffling towards my inevitable fate that it surprised me to look over and see someone, especially her, walking beside me, moving towards the same pre-destined conclusion to the story to our story.

But she came to me one night. Henry was staying at Mary Margaret's I had thought to be with Emma, but apparently Miss Swan had other plans. I didn't question her, didn't resist as she closed the door behind her and sought my mouth with hers. I let her lead the dance, up the stairs and into the bedroom. I relinquished control completely for possibly the first time in my entire life and let her conduct the symphony, the arcs, the falls, the cadence of whimpers and gasps the music of our bodies connecting.

She destroyed my walls that night, tore away whatever obstacles were left in her way. She found my heart where it had hidden itself from the world and she signed her name upon it.

I'm not sure whether to be happy or heart broken that she's here now, staring at me with a mixture of emotions so thick I can't differentiate one from another. She paces the room and I'm left with nothing to do but watch her and let her work this out for herself. I need to let her draw her own conclusions, because to go to her, to touch her and remind her of our time together, while it would surely cut through her resolve like a hot knife through butter, it would also not last. She needs to decide what's best for her, or I have no chance. But as her eyes meet mine, I begin to think maybe I never had a chance anyway.

I've never seen such conflict in someone's eyes before, with the exception of maybe my own. It gives me a small rush of joy to know she is at personal war with her morals and her emotions because that means, to her, I am something worth keeping. And that is something I can hold onto, that I can rest safely against. Somewhere deep down inside herself, beyond the line drawn between us at her birth, that line that declares us enemies, Emma Swan loves me too.

She loves me too. The knowledge of that sets me free. She leans in and kisses me and I feel it there in the gentle press of her lips, the goodbye. And I know. I am the Evil Queen. I am the villain of the story. Villains don't get happy endings, and I'm about to lose mine. She loves me too. But in the end, in the face of all I have done, it wasn't enough.


End file.
